


weak spot

by theflyjar (sithanakin)



Category: C-Pop, EXO (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dating, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, Gratuitous Smut, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-20 19:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21062159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithanakin/pseuds/theflyjar
Summary: If Yifan could just stop being so goddamn hot, Yixing would be very thankful.





	weak spot

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #1519:  
If Yifan could just stop being so goddamn hot, Yixing would be very thankful. But no, Yifan is wrapping his massive hand around Yixing’s thigh every time they sit next to each other, staring into his eyes so intensely Yixing can’t even think, and you know what’s the worst thing? The sweatpants he wears hide nothing.
> 
> The prompter also asked for size kink, hand kink, yixing being good at blowjobs, and yifan being a tease. I hope I delivered on that lmao

Yifan’s hand on Yixing’s knee shouldn’t be as distracting as it is.

It’s a simple, casual movement that’s a result of their proximity, but the way the fingers curl around his knee is all he can think about. He’s no longer listening to how Lu Han discovered something new about his neighbour. He’s just staring down at the table and trying to count the ridges in the wood. Anything to take his mind off the warm comforting pressure of Yifan’s hand, before his thoughts begin to run with visions and scenarios they shouldn’t.

He’s only _(technically)_ been on three dates with Yifan and this is their fourth. They’re taking it slow, but there’s a loud, defiant part of Yixing’s brain that likes hands a little too much. Especially Yifan’s. And that section of his mind just wants Yifan’s hands on his bare skin, doing anything from caressing over him with light brushes of contact or pinning him down with tight grips and dug-in nails.

It’s simply that being crammed into the vinyl booth of a tacky, “American”-style diner with the smell of Yifan’s lightly sprayed cologne and the heat of Yifan’s body beside his, is already making Yixing want to turn to Yifan and kiss him. Now, with Yifan’s hand twiddling with the frays of Yixing’s ripped jeans, he wants to pull Yifan out from beneath the table and devour him. And that’s where the struggle lies, that one small part of his brain becomes all-consuming when Yifan touches him. There is no hint of a hopeless romantic left within him, only someone who craves being grabbed and smothered with lustful intent.

And, Yifan... He believes in courting, in having a spark and feeling it slowly ignite to blossom into a flame, and to fall in love. (Not what Yixing was expecting when Lu Han said he would hook him up with a Scorpio.) And, admittedly, Yixing wants those things too, and he respects Yifan’s wishes above all — even when that voice that tells him that he wants to be spread out and manhandled by Yifan at the soonest possible opportunity, uncaring of if it would be in front of an audience of a crowded diner or not.

Yixing likes sex—loves it, in fact—and he’s never been shy about putting out on the first date. But, Yifan’s been so earnest and gentle with him, telling him that he wants to do things ‘properly’. Yixing, in some ways, agrees. He wants this to be different. He doesn’t want to simply fuck Yifan and be done with it. Yixing wants whatever is happening between them to blossom into a relationship, one he can already see himself settling into. The only slight issue is that he and Yifan have barely even kissed. And Yixing’s already wondering about how Yifan’s fingers would feel in his mouth and on his tongue. And he’s not even that hot-blooded or depraved, not really—despite his openness to casual and/or noncommittal sex. He just really likes hands. Whether they’re on him or inside him, he doesn’t really mind. 

But, Yifan’s are so big and powerful looking, perfectly moulding to Yixing’s ‘type’. Almost too fitting to resist the urge to suck and nibble on Yifan’s thumb whenever he catches sight of it in the corner of his eye.

Part of him thinks Lu Han knows of this, even if Yixing’s never verbally confessed to his hand-related predilections, and that’s why he chose Yifan for Yixing to meet. It seems like something Lu Han would enjoy doing: exploiting Yixing’s fetish for incredible hands for his own personal amusement. Still, it’s not as if Yixing can complain too much.

He gets to feel Yifan’s hands on his legs, even if it’s on the reserved areas of his knees, hands, and the very top of his lower back. He will take what he can get, notably since he’s got a subtle possessive streak. Yifan’s not touching anyone else’s knee and Yixing likes to feel special; he’s a Libra, it’s what he needs.

“Can I get out? I need the bathroom.” Yifan’s voice is all Yixing needs to hear to shift his thoughts away from feeling Yifan’s hands in other places. Instead, he smiles sweetly at Yifan and shuffles to release Yifan from the booth.

He’s sad to move, only because that means Yifan’s little finger will no longer sit just up Yixing’s thigh, but sighs happily when Yifan grins at him in thanks. He watches Yifan as he weaves past tables to push open the door to the rest rooms and Yixing crawls to sit where Yifan had been, next to Tao and his date.

“You like Yifan, huh?” Lu Han questions, leaning in across the table to scrutinise Yixing’s answer.

And Yixing isn’t ashamed to say yes, to tell his friends that Lu Han really did do a good job in setting him up, even if Lu Han’s past suggestions had all been complete failures. “I do, I really like him.”

“You’ve been with him, like, every day this week, right?”

Yixing can’t resist the smile he makes, “Yeah, we’ve hung out a bit in the evenings. You know, nothing official, just spending some time to get a feel for each other. We’ve only been on three proper dates, but the chilling out is just fine.”

It’s Tao’s eyebrows that raise at what Yixing says and he glances at his date for a moment before moving in closer to Yixing, “Is Yifan-ge good at _‘chilling out’_ and getting a _‘feel’_ for you?”

Lu Han understands the insinuation before Yixing does and snickers just as it clicks in Yixing’s brain. “I didn’t mean it like that, we just, I don’t know, went grocery shopping and small things like that. You know, not quite date-worthy but good for talking and learning about each other.”

“So, what you’re saying is, is that you’ve not fucked yet?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, we haven’t even kissed yet. Not properly, anyway,” Yixing rolls his eyes as his friends laugh, knowing they’re not being serious but still wanting to explain himself. For Yifan’s sake. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to do that stuff, because I would. I really would. We’re just taking things one step at a time, so we’re both comfortable.”

“I think that’s sweet,” Lu Han’s date chips in, smiling at Yixing encouragingly. “Sometimes it’s nice to wait. Especially since Yixing’s known to be a little, uh, impatient with this stuff.”

And Yixing’s smile falters a little when he finds himself wanting to divulge that it’s almost impossible for it to be ‘nice to wait’ when Yifan has the personality, face, and hands that he does. That’s just as ‘impatient’ as ever, perhaps even more so. Yifan’s so perfect and all Yixing wants is to feel those fingers grabbing at his flesh. But he doesn’t say anything, especially since Yifan returns and slips into the booth beside Yixing.

Then, suddenly, the hand is back. It’s on his knee, the opposite one from last time, and Yixing’s almost-grimace expression reverts back to one beaming with happiness. And it stays there for the rest of the evening, then once Lu Han has settled the bill, that hand finds its way to holding Yixing’s own. Fingers weave between Yixing’s and he doesn’t even mind when his palms begin to sweat.

He looks at Yifan and thinks to himself: it can’t get much worse than this.

///

Yixing regrets having thoughts at all.

Things most certainly do get worse.

At no point did Yixing think that, in any scenario, basketball could worsen anything. And yet, it happens to be possibly the most devastating thing he could agree to.

Yifan messages him, inviting him to _‘throw a ball around’,_ and Yixing knows he can easily hold his own on a court, so he agrees and turns up to the location Yifan sent him in shorts and a tank top. Even then, Yifan’s already sweating and has relegated his shirt to the side-lines when he arrives. His physique is soft and supple, not rippling with too much muscle, and Yixing adores the sight of it.

But he adores the vision of how much of the ball Yifan’s hands can cover, and Yixing can see precisely how expertly Yifan moves around the court - even when just warming up on his own - so he knows there must be a roughness and strength to Yifan’s hands. He can imagine just how it’d feel to have them against his chest and running down to his hips. It’s a wonderfully scintillating thought.

Still, they play, and Yixing can tell Yifan’s flirting with him by playing a little more roughly but noting every slight bump of their bodies with a chuckle. Yixing does the same, knowing he can move slightly faster and more flexibly than Yifan, despite not being as technical. They’re competitive, though, trying their hardest to get points over one another and Yixing thinks it’s one of their best dates. Despite the mouthwatering distraction of Yifan's shirtless body and goofy personality.

Sweat drips from their hair when they’re laughing too much to control their limbs anymore, leaning against each other’s sides and Yifan’s so warm, so close, and so perfectly shiny that Yixing wants nothing more than to lick him clean. He knows he’s staring, watching droplets and Yifan notices, as he swipes the sweat away with his fingertips until they’re glistening with perspiration, too.

Yixing’s mouth tingles and floods with almost sweet-tasting saliva, wetting his tongue to be ready to lick, and it takes Yifan stealing the ball away from Yixing’s hands for him to fully break his thoughts.

“You okay?” Yifan asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, just getting a bit tired,” Yixing shrugs, but he still lunges forward to get the ball.

Yifan’s a fraction of a second too slow in stopping Yixing and the ball bounces on the floor, with Yixing catching it on the rebound. He jogs away, laughing breathily, as he dribbles the ball. The slight shock that marred itself on Yifan’s face dissipates and he chases after Yixing, yelling about how Yixing’s not playing fairly.

They still flirt, bumping into each other and Yifan winks at Yixing whenever he increases his lead over Yixing by another two or three points. But, in all fairness, Yixing finds Yifan’s shirtless-ness a little too flustering, so he hopes he can level the playing field by calling time quickly and taking off his own sweat-soaked shirt. And there’s a pleasant hum in the back of his head when he catches Yifan gaping at him, not only when he moves to peel away the fabric and toss it to where Yifan’s is, but when he jogs back towards him and just stands there.

Yifan’s eyes are all over Yixing’s chest and gently defined stomach, his mouth hinged open, and Yixing flexes a little to preen. To take it as a quiet win when Yifan’s tongue pokes out of his mouth to wet his lips.

“Holy fuck,” Yifan mutters and Yixing can’t help but laugh. “That’s unfair, that’s going to be distracting.”

“What? Like you running around with your shirt off the entire time isn’t?” Yixing rebuts and Yifan shrugs.

“Never said _I_ would play fairly.”

“You were just complaining that I wasn’t... But, fine! I won’t either, then,” Yixing runs a hand through his hair and gets into a slightly crouched position, ready to try to get the ball away from Yifan’s hands. “Come on, start again. First one to sixty wins.”

They don’t even make it to fifty points before Yixing’s at his wit’s end. He’s stressed, he just wants Yifan’s hands on his body and their lips smothered together. He wants to feel his skin meet Yifan’s as he tilts his head to let them kiss with a fervour that veers close to being painful. So, he motions to do that. The ball leaves his hands, bouncing on the ground with a rubbery yet hollow thud, and Yifan gawks at him.

Yifan doesn’t even move out of Yixing’s path when he advances towards him, one arm hooking around Yifan’s neck and the other firmly cupping Yifan’s cheek to pull him closer. Their lips meet and something in Yixing’s body clenches up tightly then releases in euphoria. Yifan’s mouth is responding to his quickly and the blood rushes up to Yixing’s cheeks when Yifan wraps his arms around Yixing’s waist. His fingernails drag over Yixing’s hips before clamping down slightly and Yixing can picture what it looks like so vividly in his head.

He could hum out a moan at that vision alone but holds it back in his throat, only actually letting it escape when he feels and hears the chain link fencing tremor beneath him as he’s pushed into it. The pressure of Yifan’s lips on his and how solidly he’s being held against the fence should hurt. It should ache. But it doesn’t, it only cools his heated skin for a second before warming. Everything about the moment is so hot: skin-to-skin contact with Yifan, their breaths barely having time to diffuse between them, the throbbing of Yixing’s head as Yifan’s hands grip tighter and tighter.

He feels like he could simultaneously implode and explode, unsure of whether to push back against Yifan or pull him closer.

The kiss itself is messy. Wet, hot, and urgent, like they’re trying to meld their lips together in an almost violent lust. Yifan’s tongue would taste minty sweet, if not for the more natural tang of his spittle, but Yixing adores it all the same. His own mouth, when his tongue meets Yifan’s, floods with saliva, and he can sense Yifan’s tongue moving to explore it, to taste it.

Yixing’s arms slip down from Yifan’s neck and face, clinging to his shoulders and Yixing wants to anchor himself there. His eyes are closed and all he wants to do is have Yifan consume him.

He thinks he’d willingly let Yifan fuck him right there, on the basketball court, but that thought hammers through his brain with such force that he breaks the kiss.

It’s Yifan, however, that says: “Oh fuck... We shouldn’t have done that, right? If we’re taking it slow?”

In all honesty, in that moment, Yixing doesn’t even know what ‘taking it slow’ genuinely means. All he knows that it’s what Yifan wants, so he needs to pull back to assure Yifan that whatever he wants is what Yixing wants, too. No part of hime wishes to pull Yifan along in making out, if that isn’t the pace Yifan wants to go at. So, he stands there, chest heaving and lips pulsing from use, peeking up at Yifan.

Yifan is staring back down at him, eyes scanning over Yixing’s face and he gently presses their mouths together again. This time it’s gentle and tender, not ravenous and potent, and Yixing feels like he could melt. Yifan repeats the action again, but with his hands cupping Yixing’s cheeks.

“That’s how our first _actual _kiss should have been.”

Slow. Delicate. _Romantic, _is the subtext Yixing can read from that. Despite them both glimmering with sweat, shirtless, in the quickly darkening evening. Yifan wanted something unhurried, less driven by the thrill-seeking urge Yixing feels whenever Yifan scores a point over him.

“Yeah,” Yixing croaks, trying to smile and reassure Yifan, not to scare him off. 

Running his hand through his hair, Yifan’s head bobs in a nod, smiling because he thinks they’re on the same page. When, the reality is, Yixing knows all he’ll be able to think about for hours will be how it felt to hold Yifan’s body so tightly to his own that it probably could have been afflictive. And then there’s that visceral sensation of having Yifan’s hands on him, actually gripping him to the point of pleasurable pain, and knowing how the slight roughness of Yifan’s fingertips felt pressing into his flesh. The way his nails had dragged. 

Yixing has to shake his head, shrugging his shoulders a few times, as if to loosen them. And Yifan is the one who starts making his way over to their shirts, asking, “You want to grab a coffee?”

The agreement comes out of Yixing’s mouth before he can properly think about it, regardless of the fact that he knows he’s going to be driven insane by the sight of the condensation from whatever iced drink Yifan’s going to get dribbling over Yifan’s fingers. He knows he will salivate; he’s resigned himself to his fate. He may as well enjoy the suffering.

///

If Yixing knew all it took was him getting hard in some sweatpants to have Yifan crawling all over him, he’d have worn sweatpants every time they met.

A casual movie date in Yixing’s apartment, that’s all it is supposed to be. There wasn't even a hint of anything suggestive when they discussed it over _WeChat _voice notes. It wasn’t a thinly veiled excuse to get close to one another, there was no cheesy rom-com or crappy horror film. It's a biopic, one of a dark and sinister man, both Yifan and Yixing griping about how none of their friends had wanted to see it in theatres, but since it was up for streaming, they decided to go for watching it together.

Only, Yixing’s barely twenty minutes into the unfolding of this evil human’s life when Yifan’s hand rubs on his knee. Again, it’s not even supposed to be sexual; they had been holding hands but Yixing’s palms had grown uncomfortably clammy, and they weren’t sat in any kind of position to cuddle. 

The hand is there for contact, but it’s all Yixing can sense and feel upon him. It’s all he wants on him, no clothes or hesitation, just Yifan’s hands.

Then, when Yixing starts shifting, aware that the more he focuses in on Yifan’s hand, the more _compromising _things will be for him, Yifan looks at him. He looks down Yixing’s body for a quick moment, as if he is wise to how Yixing’s body is reacting, then directly into his eyes.

Yixing’s mouth goes slightly slack at the intensity he sees there, bottom lip trembling as Yifan’s thumb and fingers start massaging into his knee. Afterwards, his fingers creep upwards, brushing over the sensitive parts of Yixing’s inner thigh, and Yixing's legs part ever so slightly. The way Yifan’s looking at him, as if Yixing’s the oasis in the parched desert, spreads a warmth through him that meets with the tingling of contact.

Then, once more, Yifan’s eyes fall down to Yixing’s lap, looking curiously at what Yixing can only assume is something his sweatpants could never hide. 

There’s a moment when Yifan stills and takes a breath, only to sigh faintly: “Yixing.”

It’s a hint of exasperation, as if Yixing’s reaction is at the edge of Yifan’s sanity, which Yixing can completely understand. What had been a thirst has grown into a craving, as if he’s searching for a fix of whatever Yifan’s willing to offer him.

They kiss softly at first, both squeezing their eyes tightly shut, and then Yixing presses forward. He pins Yifan to the back of the sofa and Yifan doesn’t shy away, he holds Yixing’s hips in that same grip he did on the basketball court, and it holds Yixing flush against him. Yixing’s impulse is to grind down on Yifan’s lap twitches his hips, noticeably enough that Yifan’s hands start to guide Yixing’s body until he moves in undulating rolls against Yifan’s body. 

A contented sound escapes between Yixing’s lips when he looks down at Yifan, happy for the fact that they’re both not wearing jeans, meaning he can feel practically everything as they move. Being able to feel Yifan’s cock alongside the friction of their sweatpants is mouth-wateringly delectable for Yixing. He can feel just how big Yifan is and his mind blanks thinking about how it would feel to touch it. Would it make his hands feel small? Would it touch the back of his throat and make him gag? Would it rub so deliciously against his prostate that he’d feel more and more delirious with every thrust? Would it make him sob uncontrollably if Yifan fucked him hard and fast?

The thought alone is too much for Yixing to bear. He hadn’t even considered the chance that Yifan’s cock could be sizeable enough to satisfy his craving to be stretched out and made to feel somewhat used.

He reaches blindly for one of Yifan’s hands on his hips, bringing it to his mouth to suck on the fingers as he rocks back and forth in a rhythmic manner. He can see the action startles Yifan slightly, but he doesn’t motion to pull back. In fact, the remaining hand on Yixing’s waist tightens and Yixing lets Yifan control the pace, enjoying the feeling of Yifan bucking up to meet his thrusts. With his own free hand, Yixing runs his fingers through Yifan’s hair, skimming down his neck to hold at his shoulder for a little more leverage. 

As their breathing grows more and more laboured, their motions are sound tracked with expletive groans and whimpers. Yifan letting out an almost constant stream of, “Fuck,” over and over again until it all slurs together.

Still, the fingers in Yixing’s mouth are hot and heavy, laved by Yixing’s tongue to slick it with saliva for him to suck off. Yifan’s watching his mouth, eyes lidded, and mouth parted, transfixed by the way Yixing’s lips move. Yixing knows he probably wears an identical expression, especially when Yifan’s fingers start to move, around his tongue then pushing in slightly further to then withdraw a little. It shouldn’t be as arousing as it is for Yixing to have Yifan practically fuck his mouth with his fingers, but he sucks until his eyes water, and his brain is practically devoid of all other thoughts.

Yixing only takes Yifan’s fingers out of his mouth to scramble down to the floor, pitching himself between Yifan’s parted thighs and tugging at the waistband of Yifan’s sweatpants. Yifan both lifts his hips and weaves his spittle-covered fingers between strands of Yixing’s hair, helping Yixing to pull out his cock and guide his face down to it. He’s delighted to see that Yifan is just as big, if not slightly bigger, than he had felt through the fabric of their clothes.

There’s only a moment of preamble, when Yixing’s licking warm stripes up the underside of Yifan’s dick, just to feel it spasm slightly, and the way Yifan holds his breath is just as pleasing. Yifan’s big enough for Yixing’s own body to convulse in a twitch of pleasure when he has the mere thought of having Yifan inside him. He bores of that quickly, though, too aroused himself to tease or play around. He takes the head of Yifan’s dick into his mouth and sucks hard. He pushes his own head down, still keeping that same sucking pressure, almost enjoying the relatively dry drag of Yifan’s cock against his lips. Yifan does, too, if the way he chokes slightly tells Yixing something.

He keeps Yifan’s cock in his mouth, edging it back, uncaring of it makes him gag, just so he can swirl his tongue around it. Yifan’s hand, now tugging harshly at Yixing’s hair, keeps him there, and Yixing lets him thrust shallowly as he begins to suck more heartily again. Then, he takes over once more, holding the base of Yifan’s cock in one hand and fondling Yifan’s balls in the other, Yixing fills his mouth with as much saliva as he can. 

It’s sloppy when he starts to bob his head properly, spit running down Yifan’s cock to where Yixing can feel it on his balls, and it’s all over Yixing’s lips and chin. He stares up at Yifan, pleased by the sight of Yifan staring at him so hard that he thinks he could probably cum there and then.

He doesn’t, though, he focuses on moving his head, not following a simple linear motion, but moving his tongue and head in small twists and turns. Yifan’s hand falls slack against Yixing’s head after a couple of minutes of that, only limply resting where the strands of Yixing’s hair have wet and knotted beneath Yifan’s fingers. The expression of pure bliss on Yifan’s face has Yixing withdrawing from his cock to suck wet kisses down the length of it until he meets Yifan’s balls with his mouth. He takes them each into his mouth, one at a time, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows, concentrating on getting them to twitch and pulse against his tongue and lips.

His hands take the place of his mouth on Yifan’s cock, squeezing and twisting in the slippery fluids on Yifan’s cock, adoring the size and weight of it between his fingers. He works in earnest, appreciating every strangled and strained noise that seem to get tangled up and frayed in Yifan’s throat, breathing too laboured and body convulsing slightly from the sensations Yixing’s causing. It feels a lot like praise and Yixing preens. 

He works harder, taking Yifan’s dick back into his mouth and hollowing out his cheeks, sucking until his facial muscles hurt, and he swivels his head in alternate movements to his hands, moving in a helix shape. With a harsh, involuntary yank of Yixing’s hair, Yifan lets out a cut-off cry of Yixing’s name as he cums. His legs twitch, squeezing Yixing’s sides for a moment, before he goes completely lax. Listless on the sofa.

The cum is warm and saline tasting on Yixing’s tongue, but he gulps it down as best he can, even though some is missed naturally with how he continues his ministrations. He pulls back when Yifan starts to push weakly at his forehead and sits to look directly at Yifan. 

He looks so spent that pride swells up inside Yixing.

“Holy fuck,” Yifan pants, “I feel like I just had my soul sucked out by a demon.”

Yixing huffs out a laugh into his hand as he wipes his mouth, standing back up with shaky legs, wanting desperately to touch himself at the sight of Yifan slumped back with the most wrecked posture Yixing’s ever seen in a person.

“C’mere,” Yifan lazily whistles out, “I wanna touch you.”

Yixing does as he’s told, sitting up against Yifan’s side with one leg hung over Yifan’s hips. He pulls his own sweatpants down and whines softly when Yifan touches the head of his cock, right as Yixing leans to rest his cheek on Yifan’s shoulder.

Yifan teases him slowly, toying with the head and dragging his fingers up and down the vein that runs prominently up Yixing’s cock. If he wasn’t so transfixed on just staring at how Yifan’s hands looked on him, he would close his eyes and relish in how things feel. There’s a soft push to his side and he looks up to Yifan.

“Lay down, then I can suck you off,” Yifan pushes lightly on Yixing’s waist again but he remains steadfast in his position.

“No, your hand is good, just your hand,” Yixing pleads instead of complying, ignoring the questioning look in Yifan’s eyes to stare down at how the size of his palms and fingers cover most of Yixing’s cock. “Keep going like this, I like how this feels more.”

Yifan doesn’t say anything and moves to kiss along Yixing’s neck instead, pausing to nibble and tug on Yixing’s ears. It feels wonderful, so drawn out and almost sleepy. Each small rough patch of callous on Yifan’s fingers supplies just enough texture amongst the planes of smooth skin that Yixing can’t help but sigh.

His orgasm is nowhere near as violent as Yifan’s was, but it is no less intense. It shudders through his body, creating the erotic sight of his cum striping across Yifan’s fingers and the rest of his hands. Yixing’s own fingers tremble as he reaches to grip on Yifan’s thumb and bring his hand to his mouth, licking it clean with kittenish swipes of his tongue. Yifan watches him in amazement, not hesitating to kiss Yixing the moment he releases his thumb. 

When they part, Yifan mumbles, “I think, if I didn’t just cum as hard as I did, I’d definitely want to take you to bed right now.”

Yixing smiles and closes his eyes, not protesting when Yifan shifts them to lay down, and replies: “Next time.”

///

Hell comes in the form of Lu Han and Zitao wanting to do another group date. Yixing agrees, hastily, because he wants another excuse to see Yifan. But he doesn’t consider one major factor: the want to strip Yifan will be almost impossible to ignore. Plus, it isn’t helped by the fact that Yifan now seems to know that Yixing likes his hands. Yixing feels both validated and severely teased by that, unsure of what to do when he’s hard in his jeans within fifteen minutes of getting to the restaurant.

Yifan’s hands sit way above Yixing’s knee, his little finger practically sitting on Yixing’s groin and rubbing the sensitive spot lightly. There are five rings across both of Yifan’s hands, and Yixing fiddles with them, scratching the back of Yifan’s hands lightly, and staring at them so much that he knows Yifan notices. Because, then, Yifan makes things worse. 

He wipes the condensation from Yixing’s glass of water off in a painfully slow movement, he brushes his fingers along the back of Yixing’s neck, and he starts to slip his fingers down between Yixing’s thighs to caress discreetly.

The only time his cock actually softens is when Yifan kisses him deeply in a moment when he thinks no one is paying attention. And, that wasn’t even the action itself that managed that, it was the obnoxious whistling and cheering from their friends that did the trick. Nevertheless, that only lasted for a few minutes before he was zoning back into how Yifan felt beside him and on him. 

Yixing was ready to drag Yifan out of the restaurant by the time their food arrived, and he inwardly wanted to curse himself for not doing so once Lu Han mentioned going to a bar.

Yifan, however, the man growing to be ever perfect in Yixing’s eyes, declines easily, holding Yixing’s hand and saying they have other plans. Zitao makes a sleazy remark that Yixing ignores as he starts to pull Yifan in the direction of the subway.

“Whose place is closer? Yours or mine?” Yixing questions, bolting across the road between cars with Yifan behind him.

“Definitely mine. It’s only like three stops from here on Line Seven.”

Yixing doesn’t need to hear anything more whilst they descend the stairs and rush their way through the security area and barriers. The next train will arrive at their platform within the minute and the heat of the underground station is nothing compared to what’s boiling beneath Yixing’s skin. There’s a crackling anticipation between the two of them and the smiles on their faces are barely contained. 

When they jump onto the carriage of their train, there’s only a man with his eyes glued to the drama playing on his phone, so they huddle up in the corner. Yixing’s not even certain who starts their kiss, possibly both of them simultaneously, but it sates a hunger within Yixing, even if he’s already full of their dinner. The only time they stop is for Yifan to start saying, “If you think we’re going too fast, we do—,” and Yixing cuts him off.

“I really want this.” Yixing murmurs, and Yifan looks at him intensely for a moment. “Unless, you think we’re going too fast?”

“Yixing, I’ve been failing to keep my hands off you since the beginning of our second date. You’re hot as fuck and have, like, the most attractive personality, I’ve been worried about pushing you beyond what you’re ready for.”

“I’d have fucked you after our first date,” Yixing confesses. “I thought you wanted to go at this speed…”

“I only did because I thought you did, and I really like you, so there was no way I was going to let my dick ruin this for me.”

Whilst the train stops for the second time, Yixing stares at Yifan, grinning. Even under all the superficial layers of lust, Yixing can’t help but feel endeared by their joint stupidity and just how much he likes Yifan in return. Even so, that only makes him want Yifan more, to reward them both for holding out for as long as they can.

“Then we better make this worth the wait,” Yixing suggests and then Yifan’s back to kissing him, pressing him up against the metal panelling of the carriage until the third stop arrives. 

They stumble out and Yixing’s already taking Yifan’s jacket off by the time they get to the small foyer of Yifan’s building. The elevator is where Yixing’s shirt is unbuttoned and hanging off his shoulder, both of them in some state of undress before Yifan’s front door is even opened. If Yifan didn’t have flatmates, Yixing would have happily fucked on the console table of the flat’s entryway. But he fumbles the extra couple of dozens of metres to collapse down, naked, on Yifan’s bed.

Yifan’s on top of him, bare and just as aroused as Yixing, to kiss all over his body.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Yifan groans, sucking and biting at Yixing’s hips. 

With his legs spread slightly, Yixing half expects Yifan to put his cock in his mouth, but he doesn’t. Instead, he bends Yixing’s legs upwards and plunges his tongue straight inside of him. There’s a short yelp of surprise from Yixing, causing Yifan to stop for a second and look up to meet Yixing eyes, silently asking if it’s okay to continue. 

Yixing nods slightly and reaches for Yifan’s hands, holding them close to him as Yifan starts to press the tip of his tongue to Yixing’s prostate. So few people Yixing has been with before have been willing to do this to him, so the sensation is almost foreign, but he welcomes it happily.

It only takes a few minutes before he’s grinding down against Yifan’s face, wanting more pressure against his prostate, and that’s when Yifan reaches up to Yixing’s mouth with one hand. The motion is almost instinctual to take the fingers into his mouth to lick and suck them until they’re copiously covered in saliva. 

Still, nothing feels better to Yixing than having Yifan push two fingers in alongside his tongue. There’s an almost filthy sound to how Yifan stretches him little by little. It’s slow and exasperating in pace, but no matter how much Yixing urges, Yifan keeps to his speed.

Only when Yixing starts to whimper that he feels like he’s going to cum does Yifan stop, pulling away looking proud of the state he’s managed to get Yixing in. Yixing is sure that he looks wrecked. Perspiration beads on his hairline, his cock curves up towards his navel, and the hand that isn’t gripping Yifan’s is holding so tightly to the bedlinen that it’s bunched up and straining from the corner. 

Yifan crawls upwards, cock in hand and Yixing props himself to meet him halfway.

“None of that demon shit you did last time, I actually want to be able to fuck tonight,” Yifan rasps and Yixing laughs softly as he takes Yifan’s cock between his fingers, pumping it a couple of times before putting it between his lips.

He’s efficient enough to have Yifan’s dick slick enough and have Yifan clutching the headboard of the bed so strongly that it creaks. Yixing pulls back and drags Yifan in line with his face to kiss him harshly, groaning when Yifan’s tongue touches his own.

There are only a few seconds before Yixing’s repositioning himself, kneeling with his ass up and his elbows bent on the bed. Yifan takes the cue quickly, holding Yixing’s hip with one hand and using the other to help guide himself into Yixing. The stretch is beyond what Yixing imagined. 

“It feels so good,” Yixing praises, even before Yifan’s cock is fully inside him, and he pushes back to get Yifan seated within him faster. 

It starts out slow, drawn out thrusts so they can adjust, not wanting things to end too quickly, but it feels like torture to Yixing. He’d love if Yifan would go hard and fast from the offset, yet, he can still rationalise in his head that he doesn’t want it to be over within the blink of an eye. The tension has been building within Yixing since the very day they met and wants something spectacular to make up for his frustrations. So, he lets Yifan do as he pleases, even if he’s sure that Yifan wants to see what his limit is.

Although, Yifan snaps first. 

All it takes is for Yixing to look back at him, mouth slightly agape, whilst he grinds back as slowly as he can muster. That pushes some kind of trigger, Yixing assumes, because Yifan’s hands do that thing where they hold tightly enough for it to be pleasantly painful, and his hips meet Yixing’s ass with so much more force that Yixing’s whole body jolts forward. The drag of his cock, with Yixing’s body continuing to try and adjust to his size, is everything Yixing had ever wished for the moment he became aware of his preferences.

Yixing matches up to Yifan’s pace, moving them into a frenzy that has the bed begin to thump ever mutedly into the wall. There’s a chanting of praise tumbling from Yixing’s mouth, telling Yifan how incredible his cock feels and how he never wants this to end. Yifan responds in kind, not verbally, but by fucking into Yixing harder. With abandon. 

Contrasting Yixing’s thoughts of how things couldn’t get better, Yifan bends forward and hooks an arm against Yixing’s chest, pulling them both up until Yixing’s flush against his chest. Yixing expects Yifan to jerk him off, to touch him a little, but he doesn’t, instead he puts his left hand to Yixing’s lips, prying them open to push his fingers inside. Then, with his right hand, he holds Yixing by his hair, and Yixing lets himself go slightly limp.

He focuses on Yifan’s fingers in his mouth and the way Yifan’s cock feels as it moves so wonderfully hard and fast in and out of him. His own hands don’t know what they’re doing, trying to reach behind him to grapple some kind of leverage on Yifan, but then they fall to his sides, his only option to hold onto the wrist of the arm that passes up in front of his chest. 

This is what he wanted, to have Yifan use him like this: his saliva slipping uncontrollably down Yifan’s hands, thighs trembling to meet how Yifan’s thrusting into him, and voice hoarse from cries he can hardly register he’s letting out. Then, there’s the added delights of Yifan’s mouth attaching itself to Yixing’s neck and feeling how Yifan groans and mutters curses every time he gulps in air through his mouth. 

Somehow, he whines and begs for Yifan to go harder, faster, and find somewhere deeper inside of him. And, almost spectacularly, Yifan finds some higher gear to move in. The strength in his arms goes, though, to give Yixing what he pleads for, and Yixing doesn’t care at all that he ends up face down on the mattress, hands pushed out in front of him to keep his head from ramming into the headboard with every thrust. His hips are still up to keep Yifan as deep inside him as he is, but his legs are spread out wider, leaving him prone to the bliss of Yifan’s cock rubbing inside him beyond perfectly.

Yixing starts to sob, feeling undone, pulling at his own hair with one hand, as if to ground himself from barely being able to tell the difference between pleasure and pain. His own cock bounces off his stomach with every movement of their bodies, the tip grazing along the duvet leaving a trail of precum and a twitching sensation through his body. He wants to cum, to feel complete and utter bliss wash over him, but he doesn’t know how it’ll get much better. 

He gets pulled up again, but this time Yifan props him up against the headboard, uncaring of how loudly and forcefully it thumps into the wall, and Yifan’s fingers are at his mouth again. Yixing parts his lips and can barely suck, letting Yifan’s fingers catch in his cheek. Yifan’s other hand, this time, holds Yixing’s cock tightly.

“Look at it,” Yifan virtually grunts in his ear. “You like seeing my hand on your cock, don’t you?”

Yixing nods numbly, moaning out, unable to speak between his sobs and having Yifan’s fingers creeping back towards his throat within his mouth. He’s almost sure that his tongue has slipped out, almost lolling beside Yifan’s knuckle, but he can’t be sure. There are so many sensations within him and his mind feels so muddled, that he doesn’t think he could properly tell left from right, or up from down. All he can think about is how he feels consumed by Yifan. His cock in his ass. His voice in his ears. His fingers almost choking him. How everything about their bodies seems to be merging into one. Yixing can hardly tell where he ends and Yifan begins.

“Keep your eyes there, I’m gonna make you cum.”

Yixing doesn’t supply a response this time but does as he’s told. And the sight of Yifan’s fist curled around Yixing’s cock, so tight and rough, sends him over the edge. 

He doesn’t know what he does when he cums, as he’s almost sure that sanity slips away from him for a few heartbeats, but it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He feels like pleasure is trying to escape and compress within him at the same time, trying to make it the only thing he feels until the end of time. The release is so good that he definitely knows he sobs harder, choking when he feels Yifan’s cock pulse three times over then cum directly inside him with a warmth that spreads through him like a second orgasm. 

They stay in their positions, as if frozen in climax, for a couple of minutes, with both their bodies spasming and twitching. But, when they both move, they collapse down, uncaring of the mess and smell, too exhausted to do anything but look at each other. 

Yixing doesn’t know how much time passes before he is able to shuffle himself over, so he’s on his side to face Yifan. He brushes Yifan’s sweaty hair from his forehead and kisses the skin there, before he pulls back with a semi-serious expression. Yifan raises a questioning eyebrow and Yixing can’t help the sleepy laugh that accents him saying:

“You told me not to do any _‘demon shit’,_ then you go and make me feel like you fucked the devil right up into my brain.”

Yifan stares at him, a little startled, before he starts laughing, too, leaning in to steal a smile-riddled kiss from Yixing’s lips. Pulling away to mutter: “The wait was totally worth it.”

And Yixing couldn’t agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> make sure to read the other fics in this fest collection!
> 
> and come talk to me on _ [twitter](http://twitter.com/solaryifan) _!!!


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